The Soul Chronicles 02--Lost Soul
by Hardra61
Summary: Angel and Scully team up again in the future, their hunt for a rampaging vampire bringing them closer together. Sequel to "Emotions". You liked the first one, didn't you? Bear with me, this is a series and things are subject to change.


  
Title: The Soul Chronicles 02--Lost Soul  
  
By: Hardra6 [hardra6@yahoo.com]  
  
Posting notice: Anywhere and everywhere, just ask!  
  
Copyright: Angel and all characters there don't belong to me. X-files and all characters there   
don't belong to me. But I mangled them anyway. "Stoned" (the song....duh) and all things   
here don't belong to me. (It belongs to Smash Mouth. I recommend getting their album. They   
rock!!) for those of you with slightly thicker heads, the song you're about to read through is   
called "Stoned" and it is performed by Smash Mouth. Which means that I DID NOT MAKE   
IT UP!! now that that's settled, let's get on with it.   
  
Rating: Well, I'll play by the rules. R because of Language, and an evil little scene towards   
the end. You'll read it and think it's no big deal though, of course. But hey. I write what needs   
to be written; I don't let ratings wall me in. :)  
  
Summary: Angel and Scully team up again in the future, their hunt for a rampaging vampire   
drawing them closer together. Sequel to "Emotions."  
  
Notes: (I know--how can there be more notes, you 'noted' all the way through the intro!!)   
Well, I really hope this one stirs you guys up. I think it worked it pretty well. If you like it,   
send me an Owl. I would like it if you read book one first, but just so you get the   
background. If you're the impatient type, I guess you could read this one without the prequil,   
but it will make more sense the other way around. People who aren't supposed to be   
vampires are vampries and all that stuff. Book one sorts it out.   
  
Ok, now you're ready! Onward!  
  
  
p.s. don't look for Vade County, AZ on the map. You'll find it two places; in my head an' in   
this story.  
  
  
  
  
*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*  
  
  
Leave me alone  
I'm over it  
And everybody's movin' on  
I can't see my tomorrow  
And yesterday's come and gone  
So leave me alone....  
  
My mind is blown  
But it's my own  
So deal with it  
I'm feeling fine   
Most the time  
I may be on the outside  
But no one's gettin' in  
So leave me alone....  
  
We're O.K.  
Reelin' in the days  
We're all right  
We're just getting high  
Let us be  
It'll be all right.....  
  
I got no strife  
I'm loving life  
Could you say the same?  
You don't have to move to groove....  
So come on up and see me   
But leave that judge behind  
Cause I'm loving live.....  
  
We're O.K.  
Reelin' in the days  
We're all right  
We're just getting high  
Let us be  
  
It'll be all right......  
  
  
*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*  
  
  
Elena hugged her arms and quickened her pace.   
  
She wasn't sure why it was so cold--sure, the temperature drops at nightfall, but not that   
much, and not in Vade county. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and re-  
adjusted her purse over her shoulder.   
  
She'd just moved to the unnoticeably small speck on the map a week ago; she had spent all   
that time getting used to the locals and the area, not to mention her new job. She knew that   
getting a masters degree and working at the same time wasn't something that just any 21-  
year-old chick could handle these days.  
  
But there was something creepy about Vade county; something dreadfully creepy.  
  
She heard something--someone?--knock over a tin can somewhere off behind her and she   
whirled around. There was nothing--of course. Elena snorted to herself and started walking   
faster; her apartment was only a few blocks away, anyway.   
  
She hadn't gotten ten feet when an unnaturally cold chill blew past her and ruffled her hair.   
She nearly lost her shawl as the wind whipped it from around her shoulders, and she let out a   
dry gasp as she caught the fluttering material not a second too soon.   
  
Arizona was supposed to be *hot*, she snarled to herself, re-shouldering her bag and   
starting to walk again.   
  
Do you ever get that feeling........  
  
......that someone is watching you........?  
  
Elena's heart pounded and she started from a fast walk into a slow run. She looked over her   
shoulder and saw nothing.   
  
Her stomach clenched and she could not even blink as she started running. She was alone on   
the street; completely and utterly alone, with no one even in hearing range. Elena snapped   
her head over her shoulder again and was met with nothing more than another cool breeze.   
  
She turned and froze, sort of.   
  
The muscled arm snapped out and Elena felt herself flying backwards. Her head hit the wall   
hard, and she clutched at the hand that held her throat as if there was something she could do   
about it.   
  
She was terrified.   
  
Her head ached. But as black began to take over her vision, she looked up, and she could see   
a pair of eyes watching her like a predator watches its prey.  
  
  
******  
  
"Good morning, Phoenix, this is your news at three...we've got a lot of stuff for you so stay   
tuned, Sher?"  
  
"Yes first an info update.....as you may know, the past two weeks have been a blur of   
confusion for Vade County police, isn't that right?"  
  
"You bet, uh, this newest local terrorist that the press is dubbing the "Vampire of Vade" has   
still eluded capture, and cops say that not only are they still in need of clues, but the   
'Vampire' has struck again last night, this time not far from Aluna Rays Shopping Center."  
  
"They have no leads so far?"  
  
"None, and Police Chief Reynolds has alerted the public to try and stay in past curfew and to   
lock their doors and windows; the attacks take place on the streets; if you have any   
information call the number on your screen immediately, any help is greatly respected."  
  
"There's no description of the attacker so far?"  
  
"There is no description, uh....about half of the victims have survived their injuries, which   
consist of two puncture marks on their neckline, hence the case's nickname; However they   
have no recollection of their attacker at all. Once again if you have any information   
concerning these attacks you should call the hotline number on your screen ASAP. Thank   
you."  
  
The television was like a droll hum in the background, reminding him that sleep was not   
exactly a 24-hour thing. He pulled himself away from the unkempt bed and stumbled into the   
bathroom, turning on the shower and expertly ignoring the lack of his reflection in the mirror   
on the wall.  
  
If he had owned a reflection, there wouldn't be much to say for it. A shaggily-kept goatee   
darkened the complexion on his young face, and he owned dark, similarly-kept hair to match.   
His body looked relatively thin and worn out, not exceptionally muscular, and his face was   
pale--except for his lips, which were naturally a little darker than usual. However the thing   
that most people happened upon first with him were his eyes--very worn and sinister, they   
betrayed his young face and made him appear perhaps older than he physically was.  
  
Once out of the shower, he set about slowly gathering up a white shirt and some jeans,   
pulling them on slowly with fumbling hands. He wasn't a morning person, even if it wasn't   
exactly the morning anymore.   
  
He found his combat boots under his bed and plopped them on the counter, sitting down and   
setting about getting the knots out of the laces. He glanced up at the tv screen once or twice,   
while a way-too-attractive news anchor giggled and fluttered her eyebrows and stuck her   
boobs towards the camera. He paid no attention, focused mostly on getting the damn knots   
out, sometimes checking the glowing alarm clock that was set up on the unused kitchen   
counter--His shift started at three thirty, and everyone was always pissed when he was late.  
  
"Police profiles state that the killer thinks and possibly hunts like an animal, not bothering   
whether the victims are dead or not. The suspect may be more than a little deranged, says   
Chief Reynolds. Mayor Codwell says that--"  
  
"Police profiles," he sneered as he heard the words, not bothering to look up at the screen.   
Hearing himself, he paused in his knot-untangling crusade and looked out the window.   
Saturday. Kids shrieked from outside, playing in the sunlight without a care. Like the planet   
was perfect. Like life lasted forever.   
  
"--once again to stay indoors at night, and if you must go out, try not to travel alone...."  
  
He laced up his boots and grabbed a beat-up leather jacket off the back of a chair. He headed   
towards the door of the cramped apartment, but as an afterthought he turned back towards the   
television, walking over and picking something up from the windowsill behind it.   
  
Slipping the wire-rimmed glasses onto his nose, he sighed slightly; his personal sense of   
security had suddenly improved.  
  
His vision, however, did not.  
  
"And if you or anyone you know has any information on the assailant, please call the   
number--"  
  
He slammed his fist down on the remote.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
The Soul Chronicles  
Book Two: Lost Soul  
  
  
*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*  
  
Vade, Arizona, 2042  
  
*()*()*()*()*()*()*()*  
  
  
  
  
Chapter One  
  
  
I watched the vampire without moving, blinking or breathing. Which isn't all that hard,   
because I do not necessarily have to move, blink or breathe.   
  
He peeked out of the alley and quickly ducked back inside. A moment later, a young woman   
and a friend of hers walked by, giggling like highschoolers and nearly tripping over their   
platforms. I still did not move, although the stake I carried in my coat pocket was kinda   
pricking my side pretty hard.   
  
When I finally did move, it was even before there were screams. But there were. Several of   
them, in fact. Very loud and very piercing. In my opinion, very over-reactive. But then again,   
I've seen a lot of stuff. In my 'opinion', not much is really worth reacting over.  
  
It was okay. If I knew what I was doing, nobody would be hurt any more. The deaths, the   
recent attacks would be over. No more media, no more injuries, and no more killings.   
  
I stepped up behind the vamp, who held the girl struggling with her feet off the ground, and I   
felt my face contort to its vampiric form. "taste some of this, bastard," I growled and slugged   
him straight in the jaw. He dropped her, falling to the side. A second later the girls   
scampered away, still screaming.   
  
The vamp got up, turned to me and growled back. This is where the stake comes in, I   
told myself with a grimace, and I reached to snap my weapon out of my pocket before he   
could do anything.   
  
He exploded in a cloud of dust, which surprised me, because I hadn't even gotten my stake   
out yet.   
  
Barely thinking, I snapped in the new situation. There was another vampire--I could tell   
because there was no other heartbeat in the vicinity. Wasn't this just *great*? I come to take   
out the vamp that's been eluding me for two weeks and another vampire takes him just like   
that?  
  
But wait a minute; wouldn't that make this new guy a *good* guy vampire? Call me crazy,   
but I'm the only one of those I'm aware of.  
  
I saw very little; it was a girl, I could tell that. I could also tell that she had a very good kick,   
because I crashed against the brick wall half a second later. My stake was gone....no, wait a   
second....there it was. She was holding it.   
  
I watched as if in slow motion as she brought back her arm and drove the stake towards my   
chest, whence I would become a pile of dust. To my surprise (and relief) she stopped   
centimeters from injuring me and dropped the stake, stepping back for a split second.   
  
"Oh my God!" The vampire whispered, bringing a hand to her lips.  
  
I looked up at her; she was small, maybe twenty years old, her small face framed with a   
lovely display of long, red ringlet curls. She sported a tank top and some worn jeans over   
tennis shoes.   
  
I slowly pulled myself to my feet, watching her carefully as she stood gawking at me for a   
minute or two. I had no clue who she was. I'd never met her in my life. How would she know   
me? I hadn't been much anywhere for twenty years.   
  
"Oh my God!" She repeated. "It's you!"  
  
"Uh," I mumbled, reaching down and picking up my stake. She ignored the movement;   
obviously thinking I wouldn't hurt her. So she trusted me? "do I know you?" I asked.   
  
She blinked, stared, and then laughed. It was a very light, fluttery kind of laugh. When she   
was done, she stepped right up in my face and grinned again.   
  
"Angel! This is great! How long's it been?!"  
  
Now she knows my name.   
  
"I'm....I'm sorry, I don't really know......who you are....."  
  
"It's me! It's me!" She laughed, holding my shoulders at arm's length from herself.   
"God....well.....you look pretty much the same."  
  
An image flashed through my mind.....a memory....but no, that was forty three years....  
  
"Angel!" she sighed, still smiling. "Do I really look that different? It's been a while since I've   
seen a proper reflection of myself."  
  
I had a thought and suddenly my jaw dropped. "You!" I shrilled, not meaning to. I pointed at   
her.  
  
"Me!" she laughed, grinning ear to ear. "You!"  
  
I managed to close my mouth, but I was grinning all the same. "Well, well, well." I shook my   
head and crossed my arms. "Who would have thought that we'd ever cross paths again? I   
thought you were part of the living, breathing, mortal, reflectable part of society."  
  
She grinned and looked down.   
  
"It's been a long time, Agent Scully," I said.   
  
****  
  
"I'm....I'm sorry, I missed something here. When did you die?"  
  
She glanced at me from over the top of her cup and lowered it, smiling again. "twenty-oh-  
seven." Was all she said. There was an awkward silence. 2007...that would be eight years   
after I'd last seen her. I wouldn't have thought......not.....  
  
"Sooo......." I prompted, to no avail. "So," I tried again, "Mulder sired you, then?"  
  
She didn't look at me, but she nodded distinctly to my window.   
  
"Where is Mulder?" I added, raising my eyebrows. Surely the two of them wouldn't part?  
  
The last time I'd seen her, she hardly left her partner's side. They'd been together so long they   
were practically melded to fit each other! I'd seen Scully flat-out harassed in every form of   
the word by an Evil with the man's face, and two days later everything was completely   
normal again.   
  
They couldn't have.....parted......?  
  
She pressed her lips together and half-closed her eyes, not looking at me. "Mmm. Mulder.   
We went our separate ways.....ten, fifteen years ago."  
  
Wow. Fifteen years ago. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! The two agents who could   
live through the worst and come out holding hands and singing? I wanted to ask further but   
the way she looked around my apartment with so much interest hinted for me to do   
otherwise.  
  
Touchy subject, I noted to myself. We sat in my living room, catching each other up--  
or at least, me catching her up. For the life of me, I couldn't get her to say anything.   
  
Something certainly changed in the once-Federal Agent; she smiled as much every minute as   
she did the whole time I'd known her in '99. She was a lot happier, that was for sure.   
  
But there was also something hidden in her. I could barely sense it, but it was there. As we   
talked about the past, there was something abstruse about her that didn't fit in with the   
woman I was getting to know finally. What would there have been to hide?  
  
"I was going cross-country looking for a place to set up home base," she explained, breaking   
my train of thought, "I passed through Phoenix and heard a news bulletin on the "Vampire of   
Vade County". I'd seen similar attacks a few years back throughout the Midwest--Thought I'd   
check it out. Oh," she set down her cup, (which was filled with what I believe to be sheep's   
blood,) "was that him we staked, by the way? The vamp that's been hunting around here?"  
  
"I'm not sure," I sighed truthfully, looking out the window at the slowly-fading night sky.   
Soon I'd have to close the drapes or I, at least, (seeing how she hardly seemed affected by   
sunlight) would be incinerated. "Let me fill you in.  
  
"First of all, what I do know. I do know it's a vampire, not some copycat vampiriod. I also   
know that this vampire, which I do not yet know the gender of but *think* is male, is very   
experienced. You maybe know that only one tenth of Embraced vampires survive through   
their first month after dying. The slayers out there--and they are out there--are always   
waiting for callow Embracees without a sense of direction. The only ones you find are the   
ones who are at least a few years old, or older.  
  
"Anyway," I continued, "Our vamp has no lust to kill; it acts to survive, like a creature. I   
suspect that he or she works a normal evening or early morning job, but then loses him or her   
self to the night and then feeds. The only way to get rid of it, I guess, is to do what I've been   
doing--watch, wait and stake."  
  
"Sounds like a plan," Scully said, resting her elbows on her knees. "You know, you could   
probably beat the hell out of a lot of profilers out there, they way you worded that." She   
smiled softly--which completely drowned out the compliment she'd just handed me.  
  
I was amazed by her. She looked so young. So beautiful. Her eyes sparkled blue and her hair   
was a deep crimson color, naturally curled. She must have seen me looking, because she   
fingered a curly strand and smiled. "It got too hard to blow dry without a mirror," she   
explained softly. "I just thought, what the heck?"  
  
I grinned. "That's why I wore my hair long at first. It's about time for another cut, though, I   
think."  
  
"I could do it," Scully offered; "It can't be too hard, can it?"  
  
We sat grinning at each other for a while, until the sun's light was starting to tingle my skin   
and I was forced to get up and shut the drapes. I watched her looking around my apartment   
again for a while and thought of something else.  
  
"Do you have someplace to stay?"   
  
She looked up at me with her blue eyes and a blank face. It sparked memories of the last time   
I'd known her, forty three years ago. "No, I don't," she said edgily. "Why?" I bet she knew   
what the answer would be.  
  
"I just thought....that.....you could stay with me. If you're not planning on sticking around too   
long, anyway. And I mean, if you are, I know where there are some nice apartments nearby   
that aren't all that expensive..."  
  
She smiled at my rambling and sweetly rolled her eyes. "Sure, I'll stay with you for a while,"   
she answered lightly.   
  
I felt something inside me melt. I think it was my heart.   
  
"That is, of course, if I don't have to sleep on the couch the whole time," She added.   
  
  
******  
  
  
Elena, for once, was glad she was taking daytime classes and an evening job. First of all, she   
got to skip her morning classes--not that it was hard to make up the work--and second of all,   
she enjoyed the environment where she went to work. It wasn't good, and it wasn't bad either.   
It was a lifetime experience.  
  
She peeked into the girl's restroom to check herself out again--the doctor had said that if she   
started feeling light-headed or looked pale then she should call. She looked ok, except for the   
nearly-unnoticeable Band-Aid on her neck.   
  
The wound was pretty much all right; it didn't hurt at all, and so far she was doing fine. But   
she knew she'd never be caught on the streets after dark again.   
  
Washing her hands quickly, she made sure the apron that read "Ayley's" across the front was   
tied right and that she had all of her stuff. A minute later she was taking orders.   
  
"Great. Can I get you anything else?"  
  
"No, I'm fine," said a snobby old lady with a withered English accent. "Except I would prefer   
more ice in this glass of *Iced* Tea, if you please."  
  
Smiling the best she could, Elena took the glass and headed for the kitchen. "Hey, Dale, old   
geyser at table nine wants a grilled veal with 'no onions whatsoever' kay?" She stopped by   
the ice bucket and dumped a shovel full of ice into the glass. She stuck a few orders on the   
bulletin for Dale, the main chef, and headed to the back office to get a new notepad.   
  
A familiar, growling motorcycle engine roared nearby , getting louder until it cut with a   
sputter. Lynda, the assistant manager, who had her feet up in the office and was reading the   
latest edition of _Vogue_, caught Elena's attention and rolled her eyes. A few seconds later   
the back door opened and in stepped a tall, dull-looking young man with a goatee.   
  
"Bob's here," Lynda yelled to Dale.   
  
Bob didn't notice and didn't seem to care; he opened his locker and pulled out his own apron   
and notepad, brushing by Elena and through the kitchen doors. Elena smiled and looked up,   
shaking her head, then grabbed a fresh notepad and headed to pick up table four's meal.   
  
Lynda giggled as Bob walked by; he didn't notice. As Elena left, she heard the Assistant   
Manager murmur, "God he's hot....!"  
  
  
******  
  
  
"Bob.....BOB!!" Dale looked towards the swinging kitchen doors in dismay as Elena swept   
through with a load of dirty plates. "Elena, hon, get Bob in here ASAP. This veal is going   
down the garbage disposal unless a genius like him can whip it inta shape."  
  
"Right," Elena muttered, dropping off the dishes and whisking out of the kitchen. She looked   
around the dining area and spotted the one in question taking table twenty's order.   
  
"Whole, wheat or rye?" he asked the mother of the group. Then, "Would you like mayo or   
no? Kay, and barbecue sauce right? Kay." Elena smiled to herself; she did notice that he was   
a whole lot nicer to the customers, always ready with a bright smile that always seemed to   
get him way bigger tips than anybody else. Three regular customers had already refused to be   
served by anyone but him, which was generally a pain in the ass. "Great. Let me go get your   
drinks." He flashed a nice smile and turned around. Elena flagged him down and snatched his   
notepad and pen from his apron pocket.  
  
"Dale needs you in the kitchen," she said.   
  
"I'm taking orders," he growled, suddenly his normal, attitude-problem self.   
  
"Not if Dale can't *make* them," Elena growled back. Bob muttered something under his   
breath and stormed into the kitchen.  
  
Even though he wasn't the nicest guy in the world, Elena still liked him--even if the only   
thing to like about him was the uniqueness of his personality. Besides that, even though he   
was hired to take orders, he made quite an exquisite chef and was usually grumpily showing   
Dale the do's and don'ts of fancy restaurant-style cooking.   
  
She sighed and headed towards the kitchen with table twenty's order in her hand. She knew   
she shouldn't stand around thinking about him all day; he really wasn't worth wasting the   
brain power on. Elena stopped by the bulletin and looked down at the order sheet she'd   
snatched.  
  
There was nothing on it.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Two  
  
  
I strained to keep my eyes open as I turned on the tv. I had to see the news, even though it   
was six in the morning; how else would I know if I'd staked the right vamp last night?  
  
The night before, of course, had been a complete failure. I mean, the streets of Vade County,   
Nowhere, Arizona would be a smidgen safer at night from vamp attacks--but the renowned   
Vampire of Vade was still at large.   
  
That is, unless I had staked the right one this time.   
  
We had staked the right one, more accurately.   
  
I dosed off after watching two minutes of commercials; when I woke up I looked at the   
clock--six thirty. The news should be on, and if I was right, Dana would be up any time now.   
I found the right station and sat forward, waiting for the weather broadcast to end.   
  
"Dana". She'd insisted. "We're not exactly professional anymore, right?"  
  
I shook my head, trying to shake off the thought, but it wouldn't leave. Before she'd been so   
cold. Strong, but cold. This must be the strong and warm part of her. I was personally   
amazed to see the change.   
  
Was it Mulder's absence?  
  
I shook that thought off, too. The local broadcast was on.   
  
"....yet another attack last night, three blocks up from Suiman's Fine Arts shop. A 19-year-old   
boy bled to death due to his more serious injuries. Police agree that you should not be on the   
streets at night unless it is absolutely necessary, and to try not to be alone. So far, local   
authority has no firm standing on a description the suspect."  
  
I sighed and looked down at the floor. Down the hall, I heard my bedroom door open and   
looked up in time to see her walking towards me, stretching her arms over her head.   
  
I caught myself looking and snapped my attention back to the tv.  
  
"So last night was down the drain, huh?" she said. Her breed's senses were a little more fine-  
tuned than mine. She probably heard the report from in my room.  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
She smiled lightly. "What say you show me around the town, and maybe then I'll find my   
own firm standing."  
  
I looked up at her, my brain telling me that I shouldn't but my testosterone noting the silk   
low-cut shirt she was wearing, and forced my goofy smile into a more serious one.  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Devin Topps looked down the shaft slowly--carefully--before brushing the cloth over it again   
and sticking it in the pouch with the others. Routinely, he picked up another arrow and   
rubbed the cloth over it as well, looked down it, then rubbed it again.   
  
The blonde-haired teenager was reaching for another arrow when a phone rang somewhere in   
the depths of his apartment. He dropped the shaft immediately and stood up, racing into the   
tiny bedroom and snatching up a cell phone off of his nightstand. "Topps!" he announced   
into the phone.  
  
"Hey. A-Dawg wants to talk. Vampy thing."  
  
"Hotcha. Meeting?"  
  
"Base five, in five."  
  
"Right on."   
  
He hung up and hurried into the other room, picking up a long jacket on his way out. Such   
conversations were normal between himself and Andy--Andrea--Brighter; short and sweet. It   
was usually because they could tell what the other was thinking almost telepathically. "A-  
Dawg" said it was because they were probably soul mates, and they both agreed that that was   
a pretty "kewl" possibility.  
  
Base five was a small but relatively clean and nice restaurant, only a few blocks from Andy's   
apartment. Topps entered the place, looked around, and noted his two companions at a small   
booth in the back.   
  
As he walked closer, he could see them better--and the person that was with them. Andrea   
was especially easy to pick out and had caught his eye first--her hair was blue, and you just   
didn't see too many girls with blue hair these days.   
  
The man was a little older than they were--twenty to twenty five, but hard to tell. He had   
dark hair and a broad forehead, and carried about him a sort of brooding state of mind.   
Which kind of made sense; because he was a Vampire.  
  
When Topps first met up with Angel and Andy, he hadn't known that the guy was a vampire.   
Sure, he was a little distant, always lurking and such, and of course he was the one to   
introduce the two teens to the world of the supernatural......but a vampire? It had taken some   
time for the reality to come out.   
  
Andy and Topps worked mostly as underdogs for the A-man. As they put it. He had some   
kind of top secret investigation thing going on, and while he didn't exactly advertise, there   
was always somebody who came to them in need of help. Of course, it happened a lot less   
than they would have liked; Topps had to work pizza delivery sometimes to keep up his rent.   
  
There was someone else, too; she was really hot, he noticed firstoff. She sat next to Angel   
and nursed an untouched glass of ice water, her blue eyes evaluating him before he even sat   
down. Andy scooted over and Topps sat down next to her.   
  
"Nice to see you showed up," Andy teased him good-naturedly. Topps nodded to the   
stranger, ignoring his friend.   
  
"Hi," he said.   
  
"Dana Scully, this is Devin Topps. Topps is one of my....associates. One of Andy's friends,"   
Angel seemed to be ignoring him completely; and Topps had gone to cotillion as a kid, and   
he knew it was formal and stuff that the "less important " be introduced to the "more   
important" first. He just shrugged it off. "Topps, Dana's going to be helping us out with our   
current little Pet Peeve." Angel continued, motioning towards the girl next to him. "She's an   
old friend of mine."  
  
"Oh," said Topps with a boyish grin, "How old a friend, exactly?"  
  
The red-haired girl smiled evenly, maybe challengingly. "A forty-three year old friend."  
  
Topps cut his smirk and nodded stiffly. "So....yet another vampy joins the case?"  
  
"I guess so," said this Dana Scully.  
  
"So where do we start?" Said Andy, changing the subject. "Inspecting the dead bodies,   
maybe? I mean the human ones, not the vampire ones. I mean, right, because Vampires are   
dead bodies......right. about the vampire bodies I mean." Andy sometimes had a problem with   
clarification. "I mean, I know a ME, and I could probably get one of us in there....in the   
hospital I mean. I mean, in the morgue of the hospital....yeah."  
  
"Could you?" Said Dana suddenly. "I am.....was.......I'm a Doctor."  
  
"Really? Great. At least somebody can save our asses when we've been intoxicated by Evil   
Demon Venom," Topps smirked, leaning back in his seat.   
  
"Sure, I could get you in to inspect the body. The most recent one I mean. Just give me until   
tomorrow and you can be in there easy." Andy smiled. She always loved it when she had any   
kind of superiority. "I mean, tomorrow evening, cause I guess you wouldn't like tomorrow   
morning all so much. I mean, you being a vampire and all."   
  
"Great," Angel said. Topps noticed he was looking dreamily at his new vamp-pal. Or   
should I say, "Vamp-Gal"? he snickered to himself.   
  
Angel cleared off a place on the table and drew out an imaginary picture of the block. "The   
best way I can explain this goes like this.....tonight you two patrol the west side, everywhere   
past South and Mastham. Stick together; I heard there's cops patrolling tonight, and I don't   
want either of you confused as some kind of bad guy. Dana and I will cover the rest of South   
street, then maybe hang around Windhanger avenue and around there to see if anything's   
going on."  
  
"That it?"   
  
"Yeah. And you might want to stake any vampires you happen to come across," Dana added   
with a stony sarcasm.  
  
"Check and Check," Said Andy. "I mean--"  
  
"Yeah. We know what you mean," Topps held out his hand to stop her. "Let's just get this   
show on the road."  
  
  
*****  
  
  
I looked across at her as the two of us leaned against the brick wall facing the stoplight on   
South and Windhanger. I didn't want her to catch my stare so I watched her out of the corner   
of my eye....watched her watch the street for any signs of danger.   
  
I couldn't help it.   
  
For fifteen years, she'd said, she'd been alone. Or at least......you know. Without Him.   
Something in the back of my mind kept telling me that the two of them were virtually   
unseparable....and that I had no right to take her.   
  
Because she was his.  
  
But now she wasn't.  
  
Or was she?  
  
She wasn't.   
  
So what was I worried about?  
  
Oh, just....everything.  
  
"You look very...." Shit! Had I actually started to compliment her? Well, because I had no   
choice but to finish, I decided to do my best. "You look very pretty." It sounded very lame.   
Very. Very. Very. Lame.  
  
"Thank you," she said, looking up to meet my near-drooling stare. As soon as her eyes   
locked on mine I found something else to look at. At least she sounded sincere.   
  
We stood for a while, looking for the perpetrator in opposite directions, while I cooled down   
and hoped she hadn't quite changed her viewpoint on me. Oh, God, what had I done?  
  
"You're not so bad yourself," she added after a minute or two. Slowly I looked down at her   
again and she slowly looked up at me again. "Only I'd say you're more strong and handsome   
than pretty."  
  
We looked opposite directions again. Only when I'd freed myself from her eyes did I stop to   
think about what she'd just said. Jesus Christ, was I hitting on her only to find her hitting   
back?  
  
"Oh," I said, risking a small smile, "Did I say pretty? I meant to say beau--"  
  
"Seven O'clock--this way, quick!" She snatched my arm and gave me a yank, and a second   
later I found myself squished into a crevice in a brick wall alongside her.   
  
So much for flirting.  
  
"He's going down towards Topps and Andy's position. I don't hear a heartbeat do you?"   
Scully glared up at me waiting for confirmation. Straining my acuity I paused to listen, after   
a moment shaking my head. She peeked out of the crevice, giving me some elbow room, and   
a minute later we were slipping down South Street in the shadows.   
  
I could just hear the footsteps up ahead; I had a feeling that she could hear them better as   
ever so often she would stop and I would bump into her, and we would stay motionless for   
about a minute and a half before moving again. We didn't talk; I figured if Scully could hear   
his (her?) footsteps then he (she?) could hear our voices.  
  
After moving for a while in a stop-go sort of pattern, Dana waved to me and we ran forward,   
slipping into an alley and watching around the corner as our perp slipped into the light of a   
street lamp.   
  
He was tall with dark hair--I got that much before he disappeared into the shadows again.   
"Come on," Whispered Dana, and we dashed across the street only to stand motionless in   
another alley.   
  
"Topps and Andy should be around somewhere," I whispered under my breath. Dana waved   
for the go again and we ran forward, stopping again in a small doorframe that *just* hid both   
of us.   
  
Oh, man, were we close together.   
  
I battled my hormones more than the excitement of the hunt until we moved again. Once I   
had room to move, I tried to shake off the thought and succeeded--for now. "Where?" I   
mouthed to my companion, and she pointed ahead.   
  
A shrill scream startled both of us out of our skins. I almost expected the shrill voice to add,   
"I mean, Gee am I scared because you see this vampire is attacking me here, any help would   
be hot. I mean, appreciated, I mean, you know," because it was most definitely Andy's   
scream.   
  
"Found them," Dana muttered, and we exchanged a worried glance before running forward   
again.   
  
We followed the thumping heartbeats of my counterparts into a small alleyway down a   
connecting street. The vampire was crouched over Andy and Topps was lying nearby, his   
neck at an odd angle. I tensed for a moment, then assured myself that he was alive due to his   
constant heartbeat.   
  
I took out my stake and watched as Dana simultaneously lifted her arm; I'd watch her attach   
a miniature crossbow to her lower arm before she pulled on a coat. Not bad for a newbie, I'd   
say. "Hey!" I shouted to the vampire.  
  
His reaction was quick; He let Andy drop to the ground, unconscious, and whirled on us. In   
the glint of a streetlight that didn't quite light up the alley, I saw that his eyes were   
completely red.   
  
"Spread out," breathed Dana, and I moved away from her a little. She had a long-range   
weapon and I didn't; I'd have to be careful to leave her with an open shot as I got in close.   
  
I tossed the stake from hand to hand a few times, then dove in.   
  
He was ready for me.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Three  
  
  
I cut to the side and then swiped the stake towards his side; he sidestepped and kicked out at   
me. Already engaging to kick him back, I caught his leg and popped him in the side of his   
head, then twisted the leg I still had a grip on. Once he was on the ground, I prepared to   
finish it up.  
  
Didn't get a chance. Snapping his leg back into its correct place, he lifted it to catch me in the   
stomach as I pounced. With what felt like a crunched rib, I backed off for a minute to catch   
my breath.   
  
The vamp jumped to his feet and grabbed my hand--the one with the stake--and twisted   
upward. I heard a few painful pops as my arm came totally out of place, breaking probably   
every joint in it. I let the stake fall into his hand and a second later faced more than a messed-  
up arm.  
  
He brought back the stake to catch me in the heart, instead of vice versa, but to my great   
relief Dana came in then, grabbing his arm from behind. He fell off balance and toppled over   
onto her, whipping around and preparing to stake her instead.   
  
Too late. I'd grabbed his arm this time, twisting up and back until I heard *it* make that   
agonizing popping sound. The look on his face confirmed the agonizing part.   
  
I looked down at Dana and she looked back. "Now!" We shouted to each other.   
  
The vampire, as yet un-named, exploded into dust with a stake and an arrow through its   
heart.  
  
  
*******  
  
  
This time, four hopeful sets of eyes were glued on the TV screen.  
  
"....It seems that area police have no rest, as last night *yet another* civilian has been   
hospitalized because of the mysterious attacker roaming the streets of Vade after nightfall.   
The victim, a 27-year old man, was found at 3:45 this morning on the East side of Bleucher   
and Havana, next to the Old Times Café. He is held in the Vade County Hospital with   
serious blood loss, but is otherwise all right. John?"  
  
"Damn!!" I growled to nobody, looking angrily into my cup of A-Positive.   
  
I heard a sigh next to me and felt a soft hand on my shoulder. My good shoulder anyway.   
"Hey. It was one in a million. We'll get him one of these times.....We just have to keep this   
up." Dana stood up and stretched, looking out the window at the dark, gray and cloudy   
morning with a small frown on her face.   
  
"I might not be able to do this every night, not if they keep getting harder," I muttered,   
adjusting my arm in its current sling. I had indeed broken nearly every joint, according to Dr.   
Scully. She put me on bed rest and lots of fluids--especially the red kinds--and told me (with   
a cheeky smile) to come see her if there were any problems.   
  
"It'll be okay. I'm going in to inspect the last body, thanks to Andy's friend at the hospital.   
Even if I can't find much, I should at least be able to tell you what breed of vampire is   
running around."  
  
"Hm?" Topps and I looked around to her. Dana set down her glass of Sheep's blood and   
looked over at us.   
  
"Well, after last night I got to thinking. When you were in LA, Angel, the Police usually   
weren't all that stumped by Vampire attacks. Because the vampires were mostly your breed.   
They had perfected their ways and the police couldn't touch them. Not easily, anyway. So   
what if this is a different type of Demon? Different breed of Vampire?"  
  
I looked at Topps and Andy and both of them shrugged to me. I tried to shrug to Dana but   
my shoulder was still displaced.   
  
"So long as we can get this bastard," I sighed, and took a long sip of blood.  
  
  
******  
  
  
Corky Buchanon piled several half-finished plates of chips and bread crusts into the cart,   
picking up the glasses as he went and wiping the table off with a damp washcloth. To his   
ever-growing dismay, (for he'd cleaned nearly half of the tables in the west wing that   
afternoon,) he noticed that there was no change left for him on the table.   
  
Smacking the washcloth into the tray of soapy water he shoved the cart towards the next   
table, checking it for cash first. None. Angrily he turned from his job and seeked out the   
perpetrator who had been swiping his rightfully earned tips.   
  
The Perp stood, tall and gangly as he was, next to a table across the room. He used a heavy   
combat boot to itch the back of his left calf while looking down and pretending to write   
down the order he was taking. Bobbing his head up for a second, his voice could just be   
heard saying--"Sorry, we're out of mackerel this evening. Yeah. But I'd recommend the   
sautéed catfish if you're in it for seafood...."  
  
For the sake of restaurant policy, Corky waited until he was done taking the order to storm   
up to his nemesis. "Bob," he snarled, clenching one fist with malice, "I swear, man, if you cut   
me off on one more tip...."  
  
"Hmm?" Bob replied wanly.   
  
"You know what I'm talking about you s--" Corky noticed the family sitting across the room   
and dropped his voice, "I get half, you loser, don't think you can rip me off like this."  
  
"I wouldn't rip anyone off," Said Bob quietly. To the observer, there was no malice.   
  
Yet.  
  
"Like hell," Corky spat, his fisted hand shaking. "You owe me for all the tables in this room."  
  
"What for?" Bob asked.   
  
"Shut up!" Hissed the disgruntled dishwasher, standing on the balls of his feet and reaching   
up an extra foot and a half to waggle a forefinger under Bob's nose angrily. "Half, man--  
half!"  
  
"I don't owe you anything," Bob said. His voice was suddenly much darker than it had been a   
minute ago.   
  
"Shit, man!" Growled Corky.   
  
"I have orders to take," insisted the taller waiter and he turned away. Corky caught his arm in   
a tight grip and whirled him around. "Corky, let me go."  
  
"You owe me about fifteen bucks!"  
  
"I don't owe to trash like you."  
  
"Like hell!" Repeated Corky, tightening his grip.   
  
"Corky, *let* me *go*," Bob said. It was his turn to growl just above a whisper.  
  
Corky threw a punch at his face, forgetting service etiquette and, conveniently, those being   
served in the room in which they stood. Or, in which he stood, because Bob had fallen over   
like a leaf, taking a few chairs with him. Corky sniffed, taking a step towards the enemy and   
looking down at a small pool of blood that had gathered next to his face.   
  
Carlos, the Head Manager, was there in a second. He knelt next to Bob's fallen form and   
turned to look up at Corky, possibly with more menace than Corky had shown Bob. "You are   
*So* fired," Carlos growled, "that I won't even waste the energy yelling at you."  
  
Corky froze, suddenly realizing the trouble he'd gotten himself into. If only the bastard had   
given him his money then he wouldn't have....Maybe I could turn this around, he   
thought wildly, still standing in the center of the dining area.   
  
Yeah, right, he thought acrimoniously, watching how Elena and the Manager crooned   
over the injured waiter--as if the president had tripped and fallen over. Bob had to be the   
most important employee of Ayley's restaurant; fire Bob? Yeah right.  
  
So he turned to leave, ready to storm out and forget the place ever existed. And looking over   
his shoulder, watching Elena helping Bob to his feet, their eyes met for a split second. Blood   
had spilled down Bob's face from his nose, his glasses were cracked, and he was touching the   
back of his head as if in pain. The weak, worthless ass-kisser.   
  
But out of the corner of his eye, Corky saw Bob wink in his direction and flash a smile.  
  
Because he'd won.  
  
This time, Corky thought, but you haven't seen the last of me, bastard.  
  
  
******  
  
I tried to make myself invisible in the back of the room. It was enough that we'd gotten into   
the hospital in the first place. Then the morgue. Then gotten the head pathologist to let Dana   
examine the body. I didn't want to screw it up by intervening.  
  
She didn't say much as she drew the body out of its little locker and moved it onto an   
examination table. I couldn't help but be disgusted at the smell of the place. It smelled dead.   
And not just.....dead....dead; it was, like......rotting.....dead.  
  
It wasn't much like tv shows, the way she set about getting the tools ready and stuff; but then   
again I was pressed against the wall trying to be invisible. I was actually only there so I could   
protect her if something came up....cover for her maybe if someone came in. Physically, I   
didn't think she needed protection, but I have had years of practice at making up excuses, and   
that can help when body building can't.  
  
How she managed to look hot in one of those white autopsy-type outfits, I guess I'll never   
know.  
  
After a while, she lifted a hand and waved me forward. "c'mere," she mumbled from beneath   
the mask, and I stepped forward cautiously.   
  
I was surprised when she reached up and turned the super-bright lamp on me, suddenly   
making me feel hot and nearly blinding me at the same time. She lowered the mask she had   
over her mouth and nose. "Angel, let me see your teeth."  
  
"My teeth?" I repeated blankly.  
  
"Yeah. C'mon, 'Grrrr.'" She picked up a (clean, luckily) dental-mirror thingie and took a step   
forward. I took a step backward. "No, come on. I have to see. Angel......" she warned.  
  
Finally I agreed, and I let my face contort slowly into its vampiric form "Grrr," I said dryly   
while she inspected my canine teeth.   
  
"Okay, thanks," she said, turning. Slipping back into human features, I caught her arm.   
  
"Wait, you saw mine, I wanna see yours." I turned the lamp on her and caught her pretty   
smile as she drew away from the light. She let me draw her closer and looked up--(way up)--  
into my face for a minute before baring her teeth in a smile. "Grrr," she laughed.  
  
I laughed back and let go of her arm. I checked over her shoulder at the body, which looked   
more or less like it had half an hour ago. She didn't bother cutting it up to squish around   
inside, I guess. "So what's with the teeth, anyway?" I asked.  
  
"Oh. Yeah. Look here." The playful little intermission over with, she swung the lamp around   
and focused the beam on the two bite marks on the neck. They were almost invisible, even in   
the light. No bruises, not even clotted blood underneath. "See the marks? Now, teeth like   
yours are definitely too large to have made those. You would have left large black and blue   
bruises and two pretty much gaping holes in this guy. I'm thinking our vampire isn't like   
you."  
  
I nodded. Dana prodded at the marks with a probe. "Another thing I noticed was that the   
blood did not clot. Well, it's sort of obvious--how else would someone have bled to death   
from wounds of this size?--and it's in the coroner's report, but think about it. A vampire bat's   
saliva has a fluid that stops blood clotting--it's 20 times stronger than any man-made   
anticoagulant. Some vampires have glands in the back of their throats that do the same thing.   
It's what keeps the blood moving in their body as well. I can limit the vampire species down   
to a few breeds, and from there on we'll be able to narrow our search."  
  
"Sounds good," I said. "Are there any other signs on the body?"  
  
Dana sighed, her hands on her hips. "Well, not really. Anything else--hairs, fabrics--have   
been picked up by the forensics team already. And if a PI can get info like that out of a police   
office, I'll be damned."  
  
"You are damned," I pointed out.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Damn." She paused then laughed a little. "Oh, something else that's interesting--  
look at this." She lifted the victim's head a little off the table. "You probably can't--oh well,   
you see, this person's head has been bashed in."  
  
"What?" I bent down to look under the back of the head; but the hair hid everything. "Bashed   
in how?"  
  
"Not sure--thrown against a wall maybe. It didn't kill him, but it certainly knocked him out   
pretty well before he started bleeding. We can safely say he didn't feel any pain, except for   
maybe hitting the wall."  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"I don't know about the others," Dana said snidely, looking at the row of body lockers with   
her hands on her hips again. "If Andy could get me permission to examine *them*, that   
would help us out a bit."  
  
"She said it was tough just getting you in here," I nodded.   
  
"We'll just go with what we've got," she sighed, and covered the body with the folded-back   
white cloth. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone wants to see some photo ID."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Four  
  
  
He left the building searching his pockets for his keys. It was 10:30 PM.   
  
When he stopped by his motorcycle, parked sloppily around towards the back exit of the   
restaurant, he stood still for a long time, slowly examining the body of the vehicle.  
  
There was a long tear in the leather-padded seat that wasn't there before; the sides of the   
machine were streaked with red spray paint, the tires were flat and both of the rear view   
mirrors were cracked in. Bob didn't move until he had gone over every last inch of his   
motorcycle with his eyes, but finally he closed them and listened.   
  
Faint.   
  
Fast pulse. Steady. To his left. Inside the building. It was Dale's; his heart worked hard to get   
the blood distributed through his wide form.   
  
Faint.  
  
Around front, not far away. Thumping like a jackrabbit, unsteady and nervous. This was   
Corky's doing, and none other.  
  
Bob sighed again, touched his nose lightly and licked his lips. Both wounds had healed; it   
had been tricky getting his nose to bleed, especially when Corky's pop felt like he'd been hit   
with a feather pillow. He'd needed the blood, though, so he'd bit his lip rather severely.  
  
But both wounds had healed.   
  
He made a long and tiresome show of getting his motorcycle back online; going inside to tell   
Dale his 'cycle was screwed up was an extra feature he hadn't planned on; but then he hadn't   
planned on any of this and he did need an alibi. Back outside, someone had cut the ignition   
wires as well and so he played for time, pretending he didn't know heads nor tails of his   
transportation device. He imagined it was quite a show for his evil onlooker as he knelt in the   
grime of the drive trying to see inside the engine.   
  
But finally Dale's car left. And finally there was only one other car in the restaurant parking   
lot.   
  
Bob stood up and took his time brushing grime off his jeans, but finally turned on his heel   
and marched straight for Corky's car.   
  
Even if the burly, short man had decided to split he would not have had the time to do so. He   
saw Bob coming and popped open the car door, ready to meet him and do his worst if   
necessary.  
  
"Want more asshole? You want to see more blood, huh?" he yelled into the darkness,   
towards the dark figure approaching him. He was caught suddenly by the throat and shoved   
backwards until he was pinned against his beat up Oldsmobile, his legs kicking air.   
  
"People like you are the reason we have serial killers," breathed his assailant in a whisper.   
Corky opened his mouth to speak but the cold hand that crushed his throat kept him from   
doing so.   
  
"Know what Corky?" Bob's voice became conversational, and he turned around observing   
the parking lot while still holding the shorter busboy by the throat. "You know about that   
Vampire thing that the news has been playing on?"  
  
"Eeuurgh," Corky managed. Bob squeezed and threw him aside; he landed in a heap against   
his own rear tire. He tried to yell but found himself short of breath.   
  
He watched in terror as the waiter that he thought he knew inside out brought his face up to   
Corky's and simply stared into his eyes.   
  
"That's me."  
  
Corky struggled for a brief minute. His strength was weak, however, and he soon gave up the   
fight.  
  
  
******  
  
I was deep in sleep and doing very well at it when I heard my apartment door open with a   
bang. "ANGEL! HEY!"  
  
Jerking in reaction, I promptly fell off the couch and hit my elbow on my coffee table.   
Cursing mildly, I sat up in time to notice Andy staring in through the kitchen at me in my silk   
boxers.   
  
Oh, hell.  
  
"I see you got kicked out," Andy giggled. I noticed the papers in her hand and was about to   
question them. "I mean, out....of.....in there......" she gestured towards my bedroom, her smile   
gone.  
  
"We're not sleeping together, Andy," I grumbled, standing up and grabbing for a pair of   
jeans. Andy smiled and turned partially while I got dressed. Conveniently Dana left my room   
just then with her mouth full of foaming toothpaste.   
  
"Whasuppf?" She said around the Crest, vigorously brushing. She didn't seem to notice that I   
kind of had no pants on.   
  
"It's all over the news," Andy said, her voice quickening. "Another death. But this one the   
police figure they're going to get something from."  
  
"What?" I asked, looking up from my current task of examining my zipper.  
  
"Well, last night, some kid got killed at Ayley's. You know Ayley's, it's like, down the street   
from Topps's, Ayley's? With the good sautéed chicken siesta?" she looked at the ceiling for a   
minute as I nodded. "Anyway, that Ayley's. This kid got killed, and at first the police thought   
it was a copycat, but the coroner's office says there might be a correlation."  
  
"Dif day ffhing," began Dana, who then held up a finger and hurried towards the bathroom.   
A moment later she returned wiping her mouth off. "Did they find any traces of an   
anticoagulant in the body? Or heparin maybe? Let me see this." She took the papers from   
Andy and started to read to herself.   
  
I couldn't see why that was important; we'd already figured that out, right? She continued to   
scan the papers for a minute until finally turning back to Andy and me. "Okay, the ME noted   
that the blood stream was riddled with a very strong anticoagulant. It wasn't heparin so he   
figured he would send a research team on it, and they linked it to the saliva of a vampire bat."   
Dana spoke with pride; her assumptions had been correct, after all. "But," she continued,   
preaching to us and using the papers as a guide, "the research team went far enough to   
evaluate that even though the anticoagulant was closer to the Vampire Bat's saliva than it was   
to heparin, the traces in the body were even stronger."  
  
"So now the police figure they're looking for some kind of animal?"  
  
Dana let her hand drop and she shook her head slowly, wondering eyes searching for an   
answer in the far wall. "They don't know what they've got; some sort of maniac at the most.   
But here's what I think is going on.  
  
"Our vampire, although he kills or feeds only when it's nighttime and he looses himself into   
the darkness, still has supernatural strengths even when he's not feeding, and knows it. I   
think our vamp knows what he's doing is bad, but doesn't try to stop himself; he knows   
enough to lay low during the day and not to cause trouble. Even at night--police are crawling   
the streets but they still can't catch him. But during the day he *does* still have heightened   
senses; and I think that what happened last night was somebody just pissed him off a little   
too much."  
  
I looked to Andy, then back to Dana. I folded my arms across my chest and thought for a   
minute. "Hold on," I said, "you're referring to the suspect as a 'he', does that mean   
something?"  
  
Dana crossed her arms too and shifted her weight, she looked down at the paper one more   
time and raised her eyebrows in such a way that triggered yet another memory of her in my   
mind.   
  
"Actually, yeah," she said lazily, "because the police have a suspect now.....and I just figured   
he'd be our suspect, too."  
  
  
******  
  
He took a deep breath and looked around his apartment. No pressure. It's just cops, he   
told himself, and opened the door.   
  
Officers Riley and Wilkenson were just about to knock for the second time when the door   
opened inward and a pale face looked out at them. They flashed their badges professionally   
and the young man behind the door opened it a little wider. "Mr. Ashton, may we have a   
word?"  
  
He paused for just the right amount of time, then nodded, then opened the door wider.   
  
The officers entered the apartment with sure steps, looking around as Bob closed the door   
behind them. The place was a cold mix of clean and messy; There seemed scarcely enough   
items for there to be a mess made of. Bob motioned towards the cramped living room and the   
officers sat down; he sat down in a chair across from them.   
  
"Mr. Ashton? We're here inquiring about a murder that happened last night, that took place in   
the parking lot of Ayley's restaurant. You work there, is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, that's right," he said quietly. After a pause, "Who was murdered?"  
  
The officers exchanged glances. Riley leaned forward a bit. "Corky Buchanon." After a short   
pause to watch the man's face (it was blank and careless, as it was) he added, "You and Mr.   
Buchanon were not exactly on good terms, were you?"  
  
"You think *I* killed Corky?" Bob said in what seemed like disgust.   
  
"We're just asking routine questions," assured Officer Wilkenson. "I've heard that earlier last   
night Mr. Buchanon hit you. In the face."  
  
"He sure as hell did, son of a bitch," grumbled Bob, looking to the side for a second. "Corky   
is--was--the planet's biggest asshole. I say he deserved it."  
  
The officers exchanged looks again. Riley continued, "I'm afraid I'll have to ask....where   
were you from 10:37 PM to 12:00 AM last night?"  
  
Bob paused, raised his eyebrows in disbelief, looked away in apprehension for a moment,   
then turned to the police officers again. "I was getting a ride home, actually," he sneered,   
"because your goddamn dead son of a bitch fucked up my motorcycle! I left at 10:05 or   
something."  
  
Officer Riley pressed his lips for a second. This story was matching up well with their earlier   
conversation with the head Chef of Ayley's; the older man said that Bob had stormed in,   
stomped around for a while, like usual, and finally left, griping about having to catch a ride   
home. The kid's bike was still parked behind the restaurant, very much mutilated.  
  
But could he have not left when he'd said he did?  
  
Was this kid capable of Murder? The kind of murder that Vade county has seen for the last   
few weeks? Terrible, creature-like murder? The kid was rude and undisciplined, that was for   
sure, but could he really kill?  
  
Well, innocent until proven guilty.  
  
"We'll contact you if necessary," said officer Wilkenson.   
  
They got up and let themselves out; Bob sat in the chair until their heartbeats echoed far   
away in his mind. He couldn't help thinking that all those years watching law enforcement   
had paid off.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Five  
  
  
  
  
When it turned 9:00 and we still hadn't found anything on Bob Ashton, (the restaurant where   
he worked was closed due to the police investigation and the PD wouldn't give us any info on   
him,) the four of us sighed and frowned and finally set about tossing crossbows and stakes   
into the back of my car. It wasn't long before I was parked somewhere and arranging a new   
plan four our team:  
  
"Andy, you're the bait."  
  
Andy groaned and put her head down on her arms. "Ohh, I hate plans that start with 'Andy,   
you're the bait'!!"  
  
Ignoring her I turned to Dana and Topps, who were listening carefully. "Topps, you've got a   
heartbeat, so here's what we'll do. Dana, you watch Andy and I'll follow Topps around. We   
can have two tar--"  
  
"Wait, wait wait wait," Topps interrupted. "You're saying I'm bait, too?"  
  
"You can't track one of us," Dana pointed out to him, "you've got a heartbeat. The vamp will   
hear you coming from far off."  
  
Resigned, Topps rested his head on his arms in imitation of Andy. "Oh, I hate it when this   
happens. When we're forced to be bait I mean. That is, when Topps and I have to be the bait.   
For the Vampires anyway. Because the Vampires come after us, you know. Us being human   
and all. Because Vampires, they feed on Humans, of course. I mean--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, funny," Andy said, hitting him on the shoulder playfully. She grabbed a spring-  
loaded crossbow and wrapped it under her jacket. "Come on stupid, we've got a vampire to   
catch."  
  
Dana and I watched them leave the car and head in separate directions. I figured we'd give   
them a head start, so I waited for a minute. Dana turned to me. "You think we'll find him this   
time? He just fed."  
  
"He has a compulsion to feed. It won't matter." I nodded to the streets grimly. "He's out there.   
Luckily....with Topps and Andy going their separate ways......"  
  
"They could get hurt." Dana finished.   
  
"We could get hurt. You could get hurt." It came out automatically. I didn't try to stop it, not   
this time.   
  
"Well, then. In case we never see each other again," She leaned across the front seat and   
softly pressed her lips onto mine. I felt a flutter of a heart that I didn't own, and found myself   
returning the kiss.   
  
Several seconds later, she parted from me and jumped out the car door, disappearing into the   
night and fading from my vision. I gasped for air needlessly and slumped backwards into my   
seat. Amazing.   
  
After what seemed like hours I got out of the car, armed myself with only a sturdy cherry   
wood stake, and set off after Topps.   
  
  
******  
  
I remember that very little happened that night; on the streets anyway. Topps swore he saw a   
shadow glaring at him, but other than that it was a long, worthless, boring wait that amounted   
to nothing but sleepiness.   
  
My eyelids drooping, I dropped Andy and then Topps off at their homes before returning to   
my apartment. It was like dragging lead feet from floor 1 to floor 3, up the stairs because the   
elevator has been broken for who knows how long now. Dana trailed somewhere behind me   
and I slumped zombie-like through the kitchen and towards the couch. Ohh, the couch.  
  
Somewhere between myself and the blessed location I saw a pretty face telling me to take the   
bedroom tonight, to which I agreed without second thoughts of courtesy. I turned and   
stumbled through into my bedroom and kicked of my boots just in time to hit the covers.   
  
I nestled into the sheets and smelled her there. Pausing, I slid further under the covers and   
turned my face into the pillow. She was everywhere. The sweet smell of her was all over my   
bed. And that was completely ok with me.   
  
It was a nice smell to fall asleep with.  
  
  
********  
  
  
Three days later, I decided it was time to try the bait again. First of all, because the last two   
nights had been no-go's. The suspect, this Bob Ashton, was apparently laying low for the   
time being. But on the third day, I figured it was just about time that he was getting hungry   
again...  
  
"Topps, Andy, you're the bait."  
  
"Not again," they complained at the same time.   
  
Dana took over. "Listen, same game plan as before. I got my hands on some holy water--or   
holy water bottles, anyway--for you two, and we'll be right behind you the whole way. Just   
let us do our thing."  
  
Topps put on a pouty face. "Dana can you look after *me* this time? It's not that I'm scared   
or anything....but Angel's not half as fun to look at."   
  
"You're not exactly eye candy yourself, Topps," I grumbled, pulling my car into an all-night   
parking space and shutting it off. "Okay, you know the drill. Andy, then Topps...get outta   
here." I watched as Andy slipped a stake up her sleeve and grabbed one of the two holy water   
spray bottles, then left the car and headed south. Topps shot Dana and me a knowing look   
before grabbing some stakes of his own and leaving, north this time.  
  
Dana and I sat for a while, before she murmured "So you think It'll be tonight." Somehow   
my hand found hers and we sat in the darkness together for a few long seconds.   
  
"Tonight," I repeated.   
  
"Good luck, then," Dana said.   
  
"Good luck to you, too," I said.   
  
A second later my hand found her face and we kissed again......for the thousandth time since   
the first kiss three nights ago. Without the need to breathe, it seemed pointless to give up the   
passion to do so, so we sat for a while deep in envelopment in each other. My hand traced   
her spine while hers drew nonsense figures on my chest. I felt two pinpricks on my lip and   
felt a tiny stream of blood spill down my chin, filling my mouth and hers with the crimson   
fluid. I pulled her into me and nipped at her lip until I was rewarded with her blood, and it   
sent a shudder of excitement down my spine. I slipped my hand up to her jawbone and--  
  
Taptaptaptap.   
  
My eyes snapped open and I turned partially towards the windshield. Topps and Andy were   
smothering grins quite poorly, peering into my darkened car. I closed my eyes in anticipation   
of the punchline that was coming.  
  
"Hey in there!!" Topps called through the glass, tapping on it. "Thank the Lord! You know,   
we thought you'd never resurface there for a minute!"  
  
"Gee," Andy echoed. "We were standing out here, trying to think of something really   
embarrassing to say for the past, like, five minutes, you know?"  
  
"But we couldn't think of anything," Topps finished her sentence.  
  
"Anything good anyway." Andy added on.   
  
"So here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna sing a nice little song for you, okay?"  
  
Dana removed her arm from my back and, as I realized with an unnoticeable start, slipped   
her hand from the waistband of my pants. Good god, I thought, let them not have noticed....  
  
"Your, here," Dana motioned on her face and I hurriedly wiped the still-warm blood from the   
corner of my mouth. "You got it. What about me?"  
  
"You're fine."  
  
".....K--I--S--S--I--N--G," --from outside.  
  
"We could have picked a better time," I mumbled, unfastening my seat belt and grabbing a   
stake or two from the back seat. Dana secured herself with a crossbow and a 17th century   
short sword.  
  
"*....Then comes marriage, then comes immortal demon baby in the immortal demon baby   
carriage!!*" they were dancing outside on the street now.   
  
"I don't regret it," Dana said with an embarrassed sort of smile.  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
"We can pick up where we left off later on, let's say," she reasoned.  
  
"Sounds okay."  
  
We opened the car doors and shot each other small, unnoticeable smiles as we stepped into   
the dark streets along with our singing, dancing friends.  
  
"Kissing all morning and all afternoon," Andy continued in sing-song.  
  
"Why won't they take a hint and--"  
  
"GET A ROOM!!" We were shouted at.  
  
"Have one, thanks anyway," Dana said, turning and heading north down the street. "Come   
on, Andy, this way. Off we go, now. Shoo you guys."  
  
I frowned at Topps and he and Andy exchanged a high-five, before going their separate   
ways. I gave one look back at Scully and slipped into the shadows, prepared to defend my   
friends.  
  
  
********  
  
  
He knew the surveillance team was watching him, and with a passive face he turned from the   
window facing the street and knelt down to open a strongbox partially hidden under one of   
the tables. On his knees, he undid the combination with celerity before opening the safe and   
removing about ten manila folders from inside.   
  
For an ephemeral moment he paused, opening the topmost file and scanning over the   
information given. Todd Jameson, it read across the top, 19, single. Birth certificate was   
tucked in the back behind a convincing driver's license and just about everything else needed   
to completely change his persona.  
  
Again.  
  
Slipping the folders into a beat-up briefcase, he picked up his jacket and looked around the   
room. Once again, he was prepared to leave, to walk away. Just like the first time--leave   
everything and start over elsewhere. His life in Vade County, Arizona was nearly over. It   
was time to start somewhere else--but he had to get past the police before getting anywhere.   
  
He picked up a large wad of 20$ bills from the kitchen counter and stuffed it into his pocket.   
Looking out the window again, he analyzed the car that the two officers were sitting in--new   
model, okay, but did it have a radio transponder in it? It would be tough to creep up on them   
if there was....  
  
Finally he pulled the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder and left the apartment as it was.   
He waited a short minute to see if anyone else in the hallway was up and about--but there   
was not. He slipped down the walkway and down the stairs, pushing through the lobby and   
slipping out the back entrance. With any luck, the cops out front would not notice his   
surreptitious departure.   
  
After waiting several minutes more in the alley out back, he took his time slipping around the   
corner and melting into the shadows, walking down the street at a fast sort of pace.   
Sometimes a police car would roll by, and he would freeze and disappear into the darkness   
surrounding him.   
  
He got as far as Fifth Avenue when something caught his attention. It was a heartbeat, and it   
was alone. Alone and thumping fast.   
  
He waited patiently in a dark alcove as the human girl passed, walking slowly and humming   
nervously to herself. He listened for a trace; he knew police. They liked to set traps.   
  
But she was alone. There was no other heartbeat.   
  
It was a simple task of shadowing her down the sidewalk then slipping across the street,   
getting ahead of her and melting into the darkness of an empty alley. She passed by him,   
smelling of fear, and his task was as simple as grabbing her arm, covering her mouth, and   
hurling her struggling form towards the brick wall to their right.   
  
He waited for a whole minute; all was still.   
  
A trickle of blood had streamed from a cut in her forehead and the thick smell of blood   
clogged all of his senses, making his lips part and his stomach growl. He lowered himself to   
his knees and inched forward, taking the girl's head in one hand and her upper torso with his   
other arm. Her head tilted back and exposed her neck, and the muscles straining within it.   
  
He lowered his head and bit gingerly into the main cartiod artery, barely waiting to extract   
his teeth from the punctures before beginning to lap at the blood. A thick red stream coursed   
down her neck and onto her white top, and he adjusted his head to let more of the blood fill   
into his mouth.   
  
Its warmth was his life force. The taste was so perfect and the warmth was what kept him   
feeding. All senses became drowned out by the constant rush of fresh blood.   
  
He felt and heard the crack in his neck; a second later his head hit the brick wall and his neck   
snapped back into place. Fumbling to get into an upright position, he rolled against the wall   
and struggled to his feet, looking for his attacker.   
  
She lifted the crossbow with accuracy and took a step forward.  
  
"Angel," she said, "I have him."  
  
  
*******  
  
  
Watching the crossbow, he suddenly dropped to the ground and rolled forward, dodging the   
shot aimed for his chest as he kicked out her feet with one blow and disarmed her with the   
next.   
  
She ignored her disarmament and punched the other vampire square in his chest, rewarded   
with a definite "oof!" as he rolled to the side. She jumped to her feet and extracted her short   
sword, slashing it at his face before he could even get up again.  
  
They faced each other, him nursing a slashed cheek and her eyeing the place where her   
crossbow lay on the ground. Dana hoped to God that Andy was not dead.  
  
"Angel," She said to her earpiece.  
  
"I copy. Topps and I are on our way."  
  
"Call an ambulance. I don't know how bad Andy's hurt."  
  
"Can you hold him off?"  
  
"Long enough. Just get here." Dana advanced and slashed with the sword, but cried out when   
he kicked the weapon out of her hand, catching her legs with one of his own and tripping her   
to the ground again. He was on top of her in an instant, and had punched her face twice   
before she managed to get a stake out.   
  
She stabbed anywhere, catching his shoulder. He fell off of her and to the side, and she was   
about to re-stab with more accuracy when he grabbed the short sword she had dropped and   
slashed out at her; giving the stake a good shave and slicing deeply into her palm as well.   
  
She shouted in pain and fumbled to grab the stake again; but he was faster.  
  
  
*******  
  
I ran headlong down the street; Topps was somewhere behind me. I heard a painful cry that   
had to belong to Dana and pushed myself faster.   
  
When I got there the alley was nearly drenched in blood; belonging to, I guessed, both Andy,   
Dana, and this Bob Ashton. Both my friend and my enemy were locked in a bloody massacre   
on the ground of the alley, Dana with a short sword and him with a stake.   
  
I already had a stake in my hand, I came in close and grabbed the guy's shoulder. He turned   
on me and grabbed my arm, twisting, but I had fallen for that before and I pulled myself from   
him in time. He swung the stake at me but missed, and when he was off balance I kicked him   
backwards into the wall.   
  
I looked at Dana, who sat in a large pool of blood with an ugly tear down her face, gores in   
her torso and bite marks at her throat, clutching the sword like it was what kept her steady. I   
turned and advanced on the vampire, who didn't have much going for him either, only a long   
cut down his face and several stab marks in all the wrong places.   
  
I advanced, ready to grab his arm and throw him to the other side of the alley, but he twirled   
out of my reach and took the opportunity to push me over. I stumbled backwards, stepped on   
the loaded crossbow and landed in time to set it off through my back. I collapsed with a   
groan and clutched at the misfired weapon, which protruded from the top of my shoulder in a   
sickening way.   
  
Dana was up and moving despite her loss of blood. I heard a siren wailing in the distance;   
maybe Andy had a chance after all.   
  
Dana charged him and hit him in nearly a flying tackle, sword-first. I saw the blade sticking   
out of his back and the expression on his face for a split second, before both of them fell to   
the ground again, out of my view.   
  
I groaned and reached to my back; I had to pull the shaft out. I couldn't move with it through   
me like that.   
  
  
******  
  
Dana left the sword in him, suddenly remembering Quantico training like from another life.   
She pinned both of his legs with her own and held his one good arm still, using her own   
weight to keep him down. If Angel was ok, he could do the job; but a groan from behind her   
made her worry. Where was Topps when you needed him?  
  
She felt around with her free arm for the stake. It had to be somewhere around them. Her   
hand closed around the blood-drenched piece of wood and she raised it into the air, ready to   
kill.   
  
Absently she looked into his face. The face of the killer; he who wounded nearly fifty   
civilians and killed a total of nineteen men, women and teenagers with animal-like intensity.   
She looked at his face, into his eyes, hoping to see something there that would remind her of   
the terrors of the world; serial killers, stalkers, them all. The people who she one dedicated   
her life to stopping for good.....it had to be echoed here. A young man with a messed-up past,   
survivor of so many countless horrors that eventually he became one of them. Just another   
killer that needed to die. She had seen so many.   
  
Her arm shuddered.   
  
Her hand loosened its grip on the weapon.   
  
It fell to the cold, blood-covered floor of the alley.   
  
*******  
  
I growled as I yanked the shaft from my shoulder and I grabbed my second stake from my   
left pocket. Not even caring that I was officially "vamped out", I threw the crossbow shaft to   
the side and focused on the enemy in time to see Dana shudder and drop the stake, moving   
away from the vampire as if repelled by an awful smell or something. I saw her face,   
however, and I did not see disgust there; I saw pure terror.   
  
"Dana, just stand back," I said softly. She looked like she was hyperventilating, which was   
technically impossible, but she was most definitely going into some kind of shock. I prepared   
myself for who knows what--the vampire might have some kind of hypnotic ability.   
  
As I approached, he pushed himself away, finding the wall and pushing himself against it. I   
steadied myself and prepared to strike the final blow--he was too exhausted to move at this   
point, bleeding from so many places it was too difficult to count. I raised the stake.   
  
I tensed.   
  
I drew my arm back to get enough thrust, and  
  
CRACK!  
  
I heard my wrist breaking.   
  
I saw the stake flying away.   
  
The ambulance sirens were wailing now.   
  
I looked up to see my attacker and fell backwards onto my back at the same time, holding my   
wrist.  
  
Dana stood over me, unarmed. Not looking at me, she instead crouched next to the killer and   
reached toward him. He watched her with an intensive fear, a frightened glint in his eyes,   
prepared to flee if it was at all possible. I wondered. I watched.   
  
The sirens.  
  
Dana's extended arm, not touching him but not daring herself to pull away.   
  
"God," I heard, a whisper so low and breathless that it seemed to echo in my mind.   
  
Sirens.  
  
Andy.   
  
No pulse.   
  
Where was Topps?  
  
Dana did not move.   
  
Silence.  
  
Blasting sirens.  
  
Her voice echoed in my mind, like a warped dream; a whisper meant only for herself to hear,   
that was so loud it nearly drowned out the sirens coming closer and closer to us every   
second....she murmured.......it echoed......my head.....so loud.....  
  
"Mulder," she whispered.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Six  
  
  
  
  
New Mexico came first; my first life on my own. Less than two weeks since we'd split. I had   
owned a conscience then; and I had for a while afterwards. Nevertheless, it started in New   
Mexico.   
  
State location was obvious. I spent a week, that first week, roaming around Roswell and the   
surrounding area. Nothing there. It wasn't long before I was making my way down an unused   
back road, speeding and creating a giant dust cloud in my newly-acquired, slightly-used   
Harley-Davidson. For the first time in nearly thirty years I was a free man.  
  
Vampire.  
  
But it wasn't long before I was sitting in an abused motel room and nursing a darkened bottle   
of pig's blood; then, almost as if I'd had an epiphany, I slugged the bottle across the room and   
watched its nasty contents seep into the rug. I was on the streets a minute later, my only   
possessions packed on my bike, which was parked somewhere oblivious not too far away. I   
walked.  
  
Walking does something to a person. It frees the soul. That's what I've heard, anyway. And   
maybe it just turned out to be true in some twisted way.   
  
I left everything behind and moved on to another town; everything including the functions of   
my 30-year diet. It was several nights of agony for me; sprawled on the worn mattress of   
some cheap hotel in the middle of nowhere, sobbing about the losses of my life and Undeath.   
Somehow it was always her fault. I never even stopped to think that maybe I was wrong, just   
this one time. Before long I was walking again, and it was walking that I realized that the   
pain I was feeling wasn't on the inside--not the messed up emotions banging around in my   
head.   
  
Fuck, it was my stomach. I was starving.  
  
So that's the story. That's the freaking way that I ended up staring at an unconscious woman   
in her late twenties with two pinprick holes in her neck. At that point some part of that dying   
conscience I was telling you about started berating me, and I ran away. I moved on to   
another town, forced myself to forget the lurid drink, tried to redeem myself, to forget it, to   
go back to normal again.  
  
But I couldn't.  
  
Because it was her fault.  
  
It was her fucking fault!!!   
  
I tried to go back, I really did. But even when I starved myself for nearly a week before   
trying the pig's blood again, all I tasted was garbage. And that's what it was. Garbage.   
  
Yet I still tried. I tried to reconvert. But there wasn't a way in hell anymore. It wasn't the   
same. No matter how hungry I was, it wasn't the same.   
  
So I hit the streets again.  
  
Left town again.  
  
After a week, I discovered something more about myself. Something new and fragile, but   
strong enough so that in time it would shell over and become magnificent. I found that I   
could hunt.   
  
Two minutes in a darkened alley and someone's due to walk by. Late enough at night and   
nobody else is around to see. Knock them out fast enough, drink a little, then stop the   
bleeding, and they wake up enervated an hour or two later thinking they fell and knocked   
themselves out. They're ok, and I'm okay. About a pint could hold me over for two days if I   
pushed it. And it's not like anybody ever got killed by a vampire bat. I wasn't doing anything   
different.   
  
It went on like that for a while. I skipped town the first few times the police got involved, but   
eventually learned to ride it out. Just like I'd pictured, my skills became sharper and more   
fine-tuned than ever before, my body--and mind--becoming as adept as the natural predator.   
Most people didn't even make any noise, and in return I did not harm them.   
  
Everything was Ok.  
  
I thought of Scully, sure. A lot, I guess. No more than usual. I knew she'd disapprove, but   
then it wouldn't be that hard to convince her that what I was doing was fair. The Vampire   
feeds on Human blood. Not pig's blood or sheep's blood. They are hunters and they need to   
feed to survive. If we do not kill our prey, what harm has been done?  
  
But she would still object. Which is why I was very glad to be away from her. Finally! You   
would think we'd never get sick of each other. But she was just getting moodier and moodier   
until one day she just.........  
  
Just.......  
  
Just........  
  
.......why did you leave me, Scully? Was it something I said? I know I'm not too good at   
complementing you or anything.......but I thought you were used to it from me......I thought   
you thought the way I acted was cute........I could see your almost-smiles every   
time........what did I do? I didn't.......I didn't.......you just.........you just left me...........shouting   
and crying........I never thought you could hate me, Scully. Why did you yell? I never did   
anything to hurt you. I didn't.....it wasn't......you just.......  
  
It wasn't me.   
  
It was you!!  
  
Your fault!  
  
Your *Fucking* fault!!!   
  
*^*  
  
I tried to stop thinking of her. Every second I tried to. But when I would try to focus on   
something else, it would all eventually slip back to her. Because she was my world. There   
*was* nothing besides her.   
  
So I started to think of nothing.   
  
And it worked.   
  
It worked for a long time. Three years, exactly. And beyond. I never thought of her for the   
longest time, just thinking of nothing, relying on the task at hand, evaluating people and   
using logic to get out of sticky situations. It worked for three years.  
  
Until one night something new happened. Something that I was not prepared for. And I am   
always prepared.   
  
I drank. When I came back from the bliss of feeding, I looked at the prey and accidentally I   
slipped from my perfect new set of 'nothing' rules. For a second. I slipped and it wasn't the   
prey I was looking at. It was a man, thirty maybe. I slowly and curiously slipped out his   
wallet and looked at the photographs. Raymond Fletcher, 31, two kids and a really pretty   
wife.   
  
I looked up. I was--how old was I? I was 72, although I maybe came on as thirty something,   
and I had none of those things. Was there something wrong with me? Or wrong with the   
world?  
  
I replaced Raymond Fletcher's wallet and pressed against his neck to stop the bleeding blood   
vessel I had opened. I pulled back in a jerk after touching his skin and stood up, backing   
away. I listened. There was nothing.   
  
There was supposed to be a heartbeat.   
  
Just one. One heartbeat from the prey that I had left alive.   
  
But there was nothing.   
  
Just silence.   
  
No heartbeat.   
  
I touched his arm. Cold.  
  
No life.   
  
No life.  
  
Married with two kids. And no life. Literally.   
  
I pressed myself up against the wall opposite Raymond Fletcher and froze. Me. I had killed. I   
had killed. This man had a life and I had killed it. Oh, oh God.   
  
I left town later that morning. After watching the six o'clock news. A man bled to death last   
night, they said. Police are not sure weather it is an animal attack or a murder, they said.   
  
In the new town, I tried to ameliorate my mistake by forgetting it. But then it happened   
again.  
  
That night, my life changed. I had been wading in the shallows, getting deeper and deeper as   
I went for sure, but I had finally fallen off the shelf and into the endless depths of a deep,   
dark ocean.   
  
That night, ten years ago in northern New Mexico.  
  
On February 15th, 2032, I became, all respects, a Vampire.   
  
  
******  
  
He watched her as she sat; she did not move, or blink, or even try to façade breathing. She   
hadn't spoken since they had gotten back several hours ago; she had fixed everyone's   
wounds, except for her own, and had finally sat down in a stiff wooden chair next to Angel's   
bed, waiting. Watching.   
  
Angel came in after a while, flicking the lights on. There was no reaction from either of the   
vampires in his room, so he paused and leaned against the doorframe. The bandage wrapped   
around his shoulder was itchy, but he decided to ignore it for now.   
  
The person lying motionless in his bed was hardly recognizable. Not only was Fox Mulder   
nearly twenty years younger than he had been last time they'd met, but he had a goatee that   
made his face look longer and thinner than it was, not to mention his hair, which was in sure   
need of a trim. But then, he looked no different than Dana had; Now that Angel knew who it   
was that the woman had saved, it wasn't hard to picture him in the "new" body.   
  
After a long time of being ignored in the doorway, Angel moved on to heat up a glass of   
freshly-acquired blood, bringing it back to his bedroom and setting it on the table next to his   
motionless friend's side. She took no notice, and he sighed, leaving her alone with her   
thoughts.   
  
It was a little past dawn when something happened; Dana Scully emerged from the bedroom   
and quietly closed the door behind her. She was wearing a fresh shirt and it looked as if she'd   
tended to some of her more serious injuries; the slash on her face was nearly gone.   
  
"Are you coming with me?" she said sullenly, her voice soft and fragile.   
  
"Yes, I am," Angel replied, standing. "Where are we going?"  
  
Dana held up a black wallet and looked at the floor. "His apartment." Was all she said.   
  
Angel nodded. "You think we can leave him here alone?"  
  
"His injuries are pretty bad," she said quietly, not looking her companion in the eyes. "He   
should be unconscious for the better part of today. It's overcast, you shouldn't have a problem   
getting around."  
  
Angel nodded and they headed for the door.   
  
  
*****  
  
When we opened the door to the small apartment, my first thought was that something--or   
someone--dead lived here. Of course, I knew that already, but on seeing the place it was   
unanimously confirmed.   
  
It was too clean; not lived-in at all. And it was cold. There was nothing of value in the place   
at all. Dana sullenly walked around, touching some things as if they held some hidden kind   
of value. She finally opened the wallet and shared its contents with me.   
  
"Bob Ashton," she said in a sigh, confirming the unasked question. "God, I don't believe it.   
Mulder."   
  
Her sudden dry laugh surprised me, and I turned to look at her. She looked like she was   
about to cry and laugh at the same time; I wasn't sure whether I should comfort her or not.   
"Mulder. Well, by God. Who saw that coming right?" She smiled, but I saw many tears   
threatening her pretty face as she spoke.   
  
She turned to me and the action released the dam in her eyes; two streaks made their way   
down her face. She was still smiling, but it was a strained, painful smile. "You know, when I   
was on him like that, ready to drive the stake through his heart and end everything he'd done   
to those people.......I mean, I didn't know it was........." She swallowed forcefully, her smile   
fading fast. "I just knew I was doing the right thing, destroying a demon. I knew what had   
happened to him; he'd had some kind of messed up past and this was some kind of release.   
And I was going to release him......release him from all that pain he'd been trying to work   
off........but then I saw his face, and the reality hit me just like that......."  
  
She looked up at me again. Her cheeks were wet and the smile was replaced by grief and   
hopelessness now.   
  
"God, Angel, I did that to him. It was me........It was my fault......"  
  
I couldn't stand it any more. I took her into my arms and let her cry into my duster for a long   
time, until the sobs became dry and she pulled away, but just a little. She looked up at me   
with confused eyes, then dug her head into my chest. I re-wrapped my arms around her and   
rocked her a little.   
  
"I didn't want to talk about him, you know.  
  
"I thought it would make you uncomfortable," she murmured, "I thought you wouldn't want   
to know what happened.....because--" she laughed a very little bit, without much force, "--  
because you were so......hot......and I was thinking that I had forever ahead of me and why the   
hell shouldn't I hit it off with this hot guy, but..........  
  
"I left him, Angel.......It was getting so hard, putting up with his quirks all the time......we   
weren't even living together, but we still hung out day and night. I don't know why......but   
eventually the fights started getting more and more severe, and I was getting more and more   
fed up until one night......" she swallowed and I made sure I was hugging her tight enough, "I   
just yelled, and I cried, and then I walked away.....I grabbed my identity folders and I headed   
east, I moved to New York for five years. And I never heard from him again." She made a   
slow choking noise and I gave her an extra squeeze to assure her I was still with her.   
"....Angel, I just thought he'd be the same.....only without me to tie him down......I thought I   
was doing the...the....right thing...."   
  
She started sobbing again and I reached up to stroke her hair. We remained locked together   
like that for a long time; I knew it would be very good for her to get it out now, before the   
pain inside her burst out unexpectantly.   
  
"I knew the perp had a messed up past....." I heard her murmur, "I forgot that Mulder had a   
messed up past, too......"  
  
I closed my eyes and held her.  
  
******  
  
He woke up at about two in the afternoon and immediately realized that he was starving.   
Wondering why, he sat up and immediately realized that he wasn't in his apartment.   
  
Panicking for a good five minutes, he slowly racked his brain for the memories of the   
previous night--the memories he normally forgot and lived on with. He strained at the   
darkened images in his mind until he found the answer. The answer was Dana Scully.   
  
Sitting up and groaning, he looked around the strange-smelling apartment for a while,   
finding his bloodied and torn clothes draped over a chair not too far away. He pulled them   
on, ignoring his splitting headache, and ambled into the living room to see if he could find   
his coat.   
  
He couldn't find his coat but there was a whole closet full of them in the hallway. so sue   
me, he grumbled to himself, pulling the long black overcoat on over his unsightly apparel.   
Next he found the kitchen and, opening the refrigerator, a whole shelf full of pre-marked   
canisters of blood.   
  
He drank about two, not that they satiated his appetite, and looked at his watch.   
  
If he was going to get to work on time, he needed to get moving.  
  
  
*****  
  
Before long, Dana regained her composure, and I wiped all signs of tears from her face. We   
searched the apartment for a while, finding nothing in particular, until Dana figured out that   
the motorcycle in front belonged to him. She returned from the mild midday sunlight with a   
briefcase. "What's in there?" I asked as she closed the door behind her.  
  
"Identity Folders," she said, "Both Mulder and I had them made not long before we moved   
from DC. There are enough new identities in here for us to 'live' and 'die' many times over all   
over the country." She opened the briefcase and looked at the folders. "God," she murmured.   
  
"What?" I stepped up behind her, picking up some of the folders. They all had a picture of   
him on the side, each of them contained a driver's license and birth certificate and each   
showed a different name.   
  
"He's used almost half of them," she murmured, flipping through them quickly. Her   
shoulders sagged. I reached out and touched her arm.   
  
"Listen," I said forcefully, "We're going to do our best to see if we can bring your partner   
back. I believe that you can do it. You know him better than anyone else on the planet. If   
anyone in the world can get him back, it's you."   
  
She paused, then nodded. I removed my hand from her shoulder and she looked around the   
room.   
  
I heard something at the door but couldn't pick up a heartbeat; I was surprised when the door   
swung open and Mulder himself stepped through; wearing one of my overcoats but otherwise   
dressed in the blood-soaked clothing that he'd been in the night before. He gave us both a   
once-over, then ignored us, passing by us without a second thought and disappearing into the   
bathroom.   
  
Dana and I exchanged glances as the shower cut on. "Why'd he come back?" I whispered to   
her. She shook her head and held up the files she had commandeered. "Four reasons," she   
said plainly, "one, we have his files, two, we have his clothes, three there are two Police   
officers staking him out as we speak and being here gives him an alibi for last night, and four   
he knows we've got him, and it's no use running away."  
  
I nodded and we sat in silence for a while. After a long time the shower cut off and he   
walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, disappearing into the cramped   
bedroom of his tiny apartment. Dana and I waited in silence until he finally came forward,   
his hair wet and dark and swept back, wearing worn-in blue jeans and a long sleeved grey   
shirt. There were cuts on his face from the previous night, but most of them had faded a little.   
  
He watched us boredly, knowing he was stuck and deciding to live with it. Turning his   
attention from us, he sat down on the couch and pulled on a pair of black combat boots,   
lacing them tightly.   
  
We watched him stand up and grab some wire-framed glasses sitting on the coffee table,   
pushing them onto his nose and reaching for a black leather jacket at the same time. Dana   
suddenly jumped to life and stood in front of him. "Where do you think you're going?" she   
snapped.   
  
He stopped and looked down at her, as if suddenly noticing her for the first time. His eyes   
glistened dangerously and he shrugged his jacket the rest of the way on. "Gonna be late for   
work," he sneered, shoving his way past her. She let him, and I saw her eyes glisten again as   
he pocketed the wallet that she had left on the counter. He opened the door.   
  
"Mulder!" She called, a mix between anger and sadness and warning.   
  
He paused, his keys in his hand. He did not look behind him.   
  
"You found me," he hissed curtly, and walked away.   
  
  
  
  
Chapter Seven/Epilog  
  
  
I did not attend the funeral of Andrea Lei Brighter.   
  
Topps did. He returned from the service with red eyes and alcohol on his breath; saying   
nothing but sitting down on my couch without a word.   
  
In my living room sat many boxes of books and clothes; Dana, who had occupied my   
apartment for the past two weeks, explained briefly that she would be staying with Mulder   
whether Mulder liked it or not, or at least until he was back on track.   
  
I watched Topps turn on the tv and zone out; after watching him for a minute, I walked   
slowly into my bedroom to find Dana lingeringly packing the remainder of her belongings   
into the last suitcase she'd brought. When I came in, she stopped and looked around.   
  
Closing the door behind me, I walked up to her and put my hands on her shoulders, slowly   
massaging away the tension that had built up there. She was terse for a moment or two, but   
eventually her back gave in and her shoulders lost their square posture.   
  
"I'm sorry, Angel," she murmured.   
  
"No," I cut her off, "it's okay. Really. I understand."  
  
"But you don't," she said in a small voice, lowering her head, "I love you, I think. But--"  
  
"But your natural maternal instinct is kicking in now that you've realized your former best   
friend is in need of help?" I suggested. She said nothing. "Dana, listen to me. You do what   
you have to do."  
  
"I don't want to hurt you in the process," she said, raising her voice. "I've hurt enough people   
that way, haven't I?"   
  
I was lost for words and she turned around in my arms. I looked down into the blue pools   
that were here eyes and felt a shudder run down my spine.   
  
Her voice was softer this time. "Let's.....just pretend.....just this once.......that nothing has   
changed......?" And she closed the three-inch gap between our lips, embracing me with a kiss   
so soft it almost wasn't there. As if instinctively, my hands pressed into her back and hers   
pulled me in closer to her, and the kiss lost its initial softness as our tongues explored past   
their rightful boundaries.   
  
Somewhere along the line I bumped into the bed and fell backwards onto my back; she was   
on top of me now. More than just tongues exploring now, our hands roamed each other like   
there were whole new oceans waiting to be found there. Clothing halted progress and so it   
fell to the sides around us, useless, as we undressed each other in attempt to get underneath   
it. And then whenever it was that we both made it completely onto the bed, I was suddenly   
the one on top.   
  
The logical part of me was screaming not to let it go too far. I had to keep my soul. If   
Angelus emerged again, Dana would not be left with one but two demons to fight, and by   
herself. A shudder of excitement escaped me as I felt her fangs at my neck; and a moment   
later all thoughts were completely lost as I impulsively bit back.   
  
Everything else was clouded; the room, the grey evening, the world around and the stars   
above.   
  
Because I was privileged to be part of her.   
  
  
******  
  
  
She left the next morning; sure, she was over all the time, but she hardly ever let him out of   
her sight and so when she was here, he was here too.   
  
And it wasn't as if he had a problem with our relationship; besides getting tangled up in   
arguments with her and sometimes physically fighting with her, he didn't seem to care much   
for me. But then, he didn't seem to care much for anything--not even Dana.   
  
He remembered me, I think, from our brief encounters 43 years ago; I didn't remember so   
much of him because of the conditions in which we met. I mean, he was a demon back then   
for crying out loud. Now, he was.......just.......messed up.   
  
But underneath the hissing, growling, disoriented vampire that we both saw,   
was.......something softer. Something--as Dana had known--something injured and violated.   
And the only window to its reality was through inflicting pain. A pattern seen thousands of   
times over in villains and killers all over the planet.   
  
In the wake of Andy, though, more than just a disobedient vampire has come to mind. My   
life's--or Undeath's--work. Angel Investigations, officially abandoned in 2009 with the   
untimely deaths of Cordelia Chase and Wesley Windham-Price, still lived on in the corner of   
my mind--the same reason that I hired Andy and Topps to track down demons. Maybe one   
day I can re-create my business in the solemn memory of the partners--and friends--that I had   
come to respect, trust, love.   
  
And until then.......?  
  
Well, I'll just wait and see what happens.  
  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
**Feedback to hardra6@yahoo.com!! For one, don't ride me out because of bad   
characterization. I'm watching Angel all I can, but I still need to see....oh....75% of the   
episodes. Mulder and Scully I should have down, tho. And you know, I think that under the   
circumstances I did Scully pretty good. I mean, people change. It's been 43 years, after all.  
  
And believe it or not, L's and G's, Mulder is my fav. character of all!!! Don't believe me?! Go   
read my other stories here http://www.geocities.com/hardra6 I am absolutely telling the   
truth!!  
  
Thank you Gal8028 for your *Angel*ic advice, Rach for your much-worshipped review of   
Emotions, and Jagg for who-knows-what. More coming later! And by later, I mean, give me   
like a month max, cuz, I'm not supposed to write on school nights. ; 0 )   



End file.
